my wings are made of plastic
by Alanabloom
Summary: What if Diane Vause hadn't died the day Piper left, but instead a month or two later? What if that anger and abandonment wasn't wrapped up in the breakup? What if they still hadn't spoken since Paris, and Alex is alone when she gets the news...and her first instinct is to call her mom to talk about it, but her second is to call Piper. Canon divergence, alternate timeline. Two shot.
1. Chapter 1

So this is how it ends: eyes feral with rage and poison filling their mouths like blood.

Piper discovers her passport slid inside the neck of Alex's folded gray T-shirt, one of her favorites, and that's it, something snaps inside her chest and they spend their last moments together yelling horrible things at each other -

"You fucking _hid_ it, Alex? You're a goddamn psycho!"

" _You_ ' _re_ a goddamn coward, fucking cut and run without the decency to _look_ at me - "

"Maybe because I can't stand the sight of your fucking face right now - "

"You know what, this is good, this is _perfect_ , of course you want to run right back to your boring life - "

"Oh, yeah, I'm going to be really jealous when your mugshot comes up on the evening news."

\- until Piper's cab comes to take her away.

The thing is, Alex is right about one thing: Piper hasn't looked at her, not really, since last night. Alex's eyes can be hypnotic, almost magic, and Piper is far too susceptible.

But now, her hand gripping her suitcase handle and determined not to let go, she can't resist one final look.

Alex's face is bricked up with anger, tight and twisted, but her eyes rattle Piper. Not because of the power there, but because there isn't any.

Piper thinks, for a second, that Alex might be about to cry, but then she turns around and closes the door behind her and takes the elevator down and gets in her cab and goes through security and by the time she boards her plane, she's decided it was just a trick of the light.

* * *

She sleeps, though not well, on Polly's couch for a few weeks. That's when Piper misses Alex most, kept awake by the phantom pain of what isn't there, a chest against her back and a leg gracelessly draped over hers.

But she wraps herself in the knowledge that she was _right_ , and the unmistakable relief that comes from being away from the cartel. Alex used to make her feel safe, whether on planes or foreign soil or throbbing nightclubs, but something changed after Brussels and it never changed back.

Sometimes it feels dim and empty here, without her - that's where Piper lives now, _without Alex_ \- but she feels around in the dark and finds the familiar walls and corners of her old life. She remembers how to live here. It helps to kick memories aside, stomp them flat, let them gather dust. She gets good at not thinking about them.

She even stops counting the days, so she isn't sure exactly how long it's been, but the month has changed twice on the calendar and Piper is almost okay and then Alex calls.

It's nearly three thirty in the morning and the ringing phone makes its way to her dream first, the one where she's back in school and finals are coming and she's somehow forgotten to attend a class all semester. The phone rings there, in a hallway where she's trying to remember her locker combination - even though everything else about the dreams feels like college - and it sounds like an alarm.

There are a few disoriented seconds when Piper is awake but doesn't know it yet, but finally she manages to correctly identify the sound and get one hand on her phone.

 _Incoming call from Alex._

It is the middle of the night but Alex is probably somewhere in Europe, where it's already morning. Piper hasn't heard from her since the break up. She shouldn't be calling.

The ringing goes quiet and the words turn to _One Missed Call_ , but only seconds later she calls again.

Feeling panicked, like she's been caught doing something wrong, Piper presses the button on the side of her phone to ignore the call. Her fingers are shaking.

It's quiet, then; Piper's heart is beating fast, and she feels trapped in one of those moments in a horror movie where you know a big scare is coming, and all you can do is tense up and wait.

Sure enough, her phone chimes once, announcing a text message. Alex almost never texts, and especially not internationally - too expensive. Not that it really matters for her. Alex is rich, and thinks nothing of spending on extravagances, but she's strangely frugal about the smallest things.

Alex doesn't text.

Piper flips her phone open and reads it.

 _pick up the fucking phone you fuck_

Anger storms through Piper's chest. It's the middle of the fucking night and they haven't talked in months, they aren't together, they aren't anything, so what right does Alex have -

 _my mom died. answer the phone_

The words, neat and glowing on the tiny screen, yank hard at Piper's insides, the moment engulfing her.

 _Diane_.

The phone rings again, the announcement of Alex's call flashing on the screen, covering her announcement of a tragedy. Piper does what she was told and clicks to answer, but she can't manage to pull a single word through the narrow tunnel of her throat.

Through the phone, across an ocean, she can hear Alex breathing. It sounds like it hurts.

For a dozen hard, painful heartbeats, that's all it is: both of them exhaling sharply into each other's ears, and then finally Alex's voice, small and far away, says, "Pipes?"

Her eyes flood warm with tears, that's all it takes, and foolishly Piper replies, "Yeah. It's me," as if Alex doesn't know who she called. "Alex…"

Another eternity passes before Alex says, "Sorry, it's late, I…I'm sorry…"

"What happened?"

"An aneurysm?" Her voice bends at the end like a tremulous question, like she doesn't want to be sure. "I don't know, I don't really know anything yet."

"Where are you?"

"Paris."

"You aren't home?"

"My aunt…she _just_ called."

"Alex, I…I'm really really sorry."

For the first time, the promise of tears creeps into Alex's voice. "My first instinct was to call her to talk about it."

"So you called me instead," Piper blurts out, then wishes she hadn't.

She thinks, for some reason, of carrying a pot of poinsettias over to Diane's place two Christmases ago, Alex's glittering smile and armful of presents, Diane opening the door in her green elf sweater, her voice warm and loud when she asked them did they know Tacky Sweater parties were a thing?

Piper bites down hard on her lower lip and it takes a second for her to say, "Is there anything I can do?"

It's a stupid question, hollow and scripted. She's no good at this. Alex's mom, her only family, is gone and of course there's nothing she can do, there's nothing anyone can do to make Alex feel better -

Except maybe _hold_ her.

The thought steals Piper's breath and makes her feel a crushing kind of awful, picturing Alex alone in a hotel room in France.

Alex starts talking in a frantic tumble of words, "I have to go home. I have to figure out the funeral because there's no one else to do it…"

"Okay…okay, do you need me to hang up so you can call the airline?"

" _No_ ," Alex protests, high and frightened.

"Okay - "

"Don't hang up."

"I'm not."

"God. I… _fuck_ …"

"Alex?"

"I don't know…"

She trails off, doesn't finish the thought. Piper sits in the dark with the phone to her ear. She has the vague feeling that she should be getting dressed, that soon she'll have to _go_ somewhere, _do_ something.

Except the truth is, this death is not a disruption to her life. There will not be the slightest crack in her days. She can hang up the phone and go back to sleep, wake up in the morning and go on living unaffected.

The silence goes on for so long Piper thinks it might choke her until Alex takes an ax to the quiet with a harsh, howling noise that quickly breaks apart into rasping, high pitched sobs.

" _Alex_."

Piper keeps saying her name but she doubts Alex can even hear her over the sound of her own crying. Even over the phone, Piper can tell she's trying to fight it, so every sound is a defeat, a _force_ , ripping out of Alex's throat without her consent.

It's like listening to her get physically beaten. There's that much pain. And it's an unfair fight.

Tears are rolling down Piper's face, it feels like she'll never run out of them. But her own crying stays quiet, even though she can nearly feel the force of Alex's sobs beating against the walls of her own chest, shredding her lungs paper thin. Like they can be in this together, even though they aren't.

She's unprepared when the line goes dead, and for a second she just thinks Alex has stopped crying, managed to force herself under control like flipping a switch, but then she pulls the phone away and sees the call's ended.

Piper calls back, but Alex doesn't answer.

She's sick on her stomach and oddly afraid, like it isn't safe or okay for Alex to be alone right now.

Piper calls three more times and sends a text practically demanding Alex call her back. Then she goes to the bathroom and throws up until she's gagging on nothing but bile and saliva. There, on her knees in front of the toilet with her phone beside her, she cries because Diane is dead and she never said anything even close to goodbye.

Alex finally calls Piper back when she lands in Massachusetts, the plane still taxiing to a gate. It's evening in the States, but her body is six hours ahead, exhausted and disoriented. Her eyes are burning and swollen.

"Hey."

" _Hey_ ," Piper breathes out, relieved. Alex hates how good hearing her feels. "You hung up."

"Yeah, sorry." Her voice is worn thin. "I was pretty out of it."

That isn't the real reason, but Alex isn't going to tell Piper that she's disgusted with herself for calling in the first place. She hates that the only thing she could think of to do was weep into the phone like a goddamn child to someone who left her without looking back.

"Are you back home?"

"Just landed. Listen I just wanted to say sorry. I shouldn't have woken you up. It's not your problem anymore."

"Alex, that isn't…I'm glad you called. I mean, I'm not glad you had to. That this happened. But I'm glad you told me."

Alex doesn't say anything. She glances at the old woman in the seat next to her with a mask on top of her head, trying to gather her carry on items, and Alex's anger clenches into a fist in her throat. Piper should fucking be here.

"So…how are you?"

"Shitty," she says through her teeth, and it comes out like an accusation.

Piper apparently doesn't have anything to say to that. She's just quiet. Alex hopes she feels terrible.

And she hopes she's about to offer to come.

She's furious at herself for it, but that's what Alex is waiting for. She wants Piper to say she's on her way to Northampton, that she'll meet her at her mom's house, or maybe even that she's already in a hotel nearby and can be at the airport in twenty minutes to pick her up.

Her mom is dead and the world's gone dark and this morning there had been a moment where Alex thought she might actually die if she didn't hear Piper's voice, if Piper wouldn't even pick up the phone for her.

"Um…is your aunt there?"

"No. She's not even coming up for the funeral." The word clashes in her ears the second after Alex says it, and she shudders. When Piper says nothing, Alex adds, desperate now, "It'll probably be Saturday morning, but I'll let you know for sure."

Piper is supposed to say she'll be there before then, that of course she will, but instead there's too long of a pause before Piper says, "Al, I don't…I'm not sure that's a good idea."

Her throat tightens and people are standing up, making their way off the plane. Alex stand on autopilot, grabbing her bag from the overhead bin. "My mother just died." Her voice is too loud and people turn around to stare. Alex lowers her eyes and her voice. "You're three fucking hours away and you can't come to the funeral?"

Piper's silent on the other end while Alex steps off the plane and down the tarmac and into the familiar airport. Alex shifts her bag over her shoulder and realizes she has to call a car because no one is coming to pick her up.

She has to blink back tears and clench her teeth against the sob rounding in her throat. She doesn't want to be here. She doesn't want any of this to be happening.

"Please," she chokes out by accident. "Pipes, _please_."

She thinks maybe Piper's hung up already, but finally she hears, "Okay. I'll be there."

"Thanks," Alex whispers. She's not proud of herself for begging, but it makes her feel less helpless. She swallows hard then says in a stronger voice, "My mom…she really liked you. So it's good."

"I liked her, too. A lot, Alex. You're right, I should..I want to be there."

Stupidly, Alex nods into the phone and they both pretend this is for Diane, who really did love Piper but isn't the one who needs her right now.

"I should go," Alex says finally, her legs working again and taking her toward the signs for Baggage Claim and Curbside Pick Up. "I need to hang up and call a cab."

And she still can't help the swell of hope for _something_ , for Piper to say she'll start driving now and meet Alex at her mom's house.

But all she gets is, "Okay. Just text me when you know all the, um. The arrangements."

"Yeah, I will," Alex answers, and then she hangs up before she turns even more pathetic, starts sobbing over the phone again or pleading with Piper to please, _please_ not make her be alone right now.

She makes her cab driver stop at a liquor store, and when she gets to the modest little house she bought her mother four years ago Alex gets blind drunk and passes out on the sofa.

* * *

 _funerals on sat, 11 am bridge street cemetery_

 _ok. I'll see you then. promise_

 _you can stay at the house if you'd rather drive down Friday_

 _that's ok, probably just leave early in the morning._

 _fine._

 _how are you?_

 _…._

 _alex?_

* * *

Piper doesn't sleep much the night before Diane's funeral, and she wakes up at five am to get ready. She hasn't seen Alex in almost two months and can't help it, she wants to look pretty.

When she sees Alex, she realizes how stupid that is.

Piper's parking at the cemetery and she sees her through the car window. She's wearing a worn leather jacket that Piper doesn't recognize, so it must be her mom's. It hurts to look at her; she looks like something stranded and alone.

The worst part is how much it makes Piper want to hug her, hold her together and keep her here. It's new, this urge to comfort. She can't remember a time she ever thought Alex needed it.

But the feeling gets her out of the car and over to Alex, whose face crumples as soon as their eyes meet. Piper's been expecting something stumbling and uncertain, at least a few awkward minutes to breach the distance that's sprung up between them, but Alex crosses it in three quick, urgent strides and Piper's arms are already open when she gets there.

Alex wilts against Piper, and it hits her that Alex found out her mother died three days ago and this is probably the first time she's been hugged.

Her eyes are tearing over already and Piper is struck with a sudden awareness of how dangerous this is, how hard it will be to leave her.

"You came," Alex's voice is wet.

"Of course." Piper slowly loosens her grip so she can look at Alex, and _fuck_ , she's never, ever seen her like this.

Her eyes are small and bloodshot, as though the only thing she's done for the past three days is cry. Piper hates thinking about that.

Ten minutes later they're standing at the graveside listening to a minister talk about Diane, her volunteer work and her rescue dogs, and all Piper can think is how it doesn't seem right that there are only five people here, mourning someone like Diane. Piper had a vague plan to just be like any other guest at this funeral, just part of the crowd save for a greeting and goodbye, but it's too small to hide. And too small not to see how badly Alex needs someone.

She had reached for Piper's hand as soon as it started, and they stand like that, shoulders touching and fingers braided tight together, for the quick, meager service. Alex's face is a battlefield, her lips tight and her muscles contorting, working so hard to keep herself together, but she's losing to stray tears and an occasional rogue sob.

After too short of a time, the minister asks if anyone has anything to add. Every other face turns to look at Alex, and when she shakes her head in refusal she looks like a little girl.

The undertaker presses a button and the coffin goes down, and Alex actually turns around, pull her hand free of Piper's so she can stare in the opposite direction, eyes on the water beyond the cemetery, shoulders heaving with silent sobs.

Piper hugs her from behind; her face is wet, and she wipes it on the back of Alex's jacket before getting close enough to whisper, "It's okay, I've got you...I'm here, it's okay...it's okay..." The minister says a prayer, but Piper just keeps murmuring her own into Alex's ear.

* * *

When it's over, they walk along the edge of the graveyard so they don't have split into separate cars and talk about what comes next. They don't catch up, don't talk about anything except Diane, and then a car pulls up and Fahri rolls down the window to smirk at them.

"Chapman." He nods in greeting. "Didn't except to see you here."

For her part, Alex looks entirely confused. "Fahri? What are you doing here?"

"Let's talk."

Alex looks back at Piper, conflicted. "Just...don't go anywhere, okay? Give me a minute."

Piper nods mutely, thrown off by his sudden appearance, and she watches as Alex goes to lean against the door, talking to him through the open window until he insists she get in the car. She looks back at Piper, holding up one finger and mouthing _wait_ , but she gets in. The windows roll up, shutting Piper out.

She waits three minutes, and it's enough time to work herself into fiery indignation, because, honestly, how _typical_. Piper made the drive here, held Alex's hand through the worst parts, and the moment Fahri rolls up, ready to talk business, Alex forgets everything else.

Tired of waiting, Piper turns and heads back in the direction of her own car; she was dreading the goodbye anyway. This just makes leaving easier.

But she's barely gotten ten yards away when Alex is calling her name and hurrying after her. "Where are you going?"

Piper turns around, trying to stay impassive even though there's something that makes her sad about Alex struggling to catch up, her heels not meant for half jogging across concrete.

"I need to hit the road."

Alex's face opens into undisguised distress. "But..." She swallows, shoves a trembling hand through her hair. "Please don't leave. Not yet."

Unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice, Piper nods behind Alex at Fahri's still idling car and says, "You're busy."

"No, I'm not. Really." Alex is actually begging her, with everything: her eyes and voice and the hand that comes up to wrap around Piper's wrist.

"But you will be soon." She holds Alex's eyes. "Right?"

"We're gonna go back to Paris next week." Her voice is soft and reluctant and Piper hates her a little.

Or at least she really wants to.

She gets a little closer to it when Alex adds, desperate in a way she's never been before, "You could come with me."

Piper pulls her hand from Alex's fingers. "Or you could _stay_."

They look at each other, expressions identical, etched with the same ache and the same unspoken words: _I can't_.

"Alex, I'm really, really sorry about your mom. But it was good to see you." It feels too formal, and so does the kiss Piper brushes against Alex's cheek.

She tries to comfort herself that this is, at the very least, a better goodbye than their first one. But when she steps back, Alex's eyes are clouded with tears; it makes them look too green and too beautiful, and Piper wishes she'd never seen her this sad.

This is such a terrible way to realize she still loves her.

"Bye, Alex."

Piper feels like apologizing, but knows she shouldn't have to. So she doesn't.

* * *

"...hello?"

"Pipes! You answered the phone!"

"I did...is everything okay?"

"Everything is fucking _amazing_ , Piper. And I wanted you to know that I'm great."

"What? Are you...drunk?"

"I don't thinks so. But you never know, right?"

Loud over the phone, Alex cracks up at her own inane statement. Piper's stomach twists. She's heard Alex drunk before, and it isn't this. But something's off.

"Listen. Thank you for coming to the funeral. I didn't say that. That was rude. Why hold a fucking grudge right? You didn't want to come to Paris, it's _your_ loss, cause it's amazing here. A _-_ maaaay-zing."

"Alex. What are you on?"

"Why, you want some? Want to come here and have some?"

"Okay. I'm gonna go."

"No, wait. I miss you. Even though everything's good. I still wanted to tell you."

Piper closes her eyes. Alex isn't going to remember this in the morning, and that's why she's able to say, "I miss you, too."

* * *

"Alex?"

"Hey, kid."

"Hi...how are you?"

"Decidedly good."

"What time is it? Where you are?"

"Um, it's... Oh, wow. Two forty-nine. When did that happen? Ha. What time is it where you are?"

"I'm always in the same place."

"Oh, right. Bor-ing."

"You sound strange."

"You just think I can't be awake this late and sober."

"Are you?"

Alex shifts slightly, keeping the phone propped between her ear and her shoulder. She's sitting on the floor of her hotel bathroom, her left arm held out in front of her, right hand pressing a cotton ball to the blood beading on her skin where she'd taken out the needle.

"I'm just in my hotel room," she murmurs, her voice already slowing down. "Couldn't sleep."

"Oh." Piper doesn't sound certain. "It's been awhile."

Three months since the funeral. Almost two since the last phone call. That had been a different sort of night - Ecstasy in the clubs, all short bursts of hyperactivity. She's realizing she likes heroin better; it feels more like control.

"Yeah. Haven't wanted to bother you."

...

"Hey Piper? You remember my mom, right?"

" _What_? Alex. Of course. It's only been - "

"I know, I know. I just. Sometimes it's good to know someone else does."

...

...

"Are you doing okay?"

Alex tips her head back against the door of the shower. The drugs are starting to work, contentment shooting through her veins, and right now she feels better than okay. She feels amazing. She's in a gorgeous city making lots of money and Piper's voice is in her ear. Piper answered.

"I'm doing great."

"Uh-huh. And are you being safe?"

"Mom used to ask me that."

"I know. So now I am."

* * *

Without really meaning to, Piper makes rules.

She never calls Alex. But she'll always answer, as long as she's alone or with a group she can slip away from.

(She's on some semblance of a date once, with one of those girls who make Polly roll her eyes knowingly, the _hot ones who make her crazy_ but don't remind her enough of Alex. She lets the call go to voicemail and feels sick the rest of the night, lets the girl fuck her until she wants to cry.)

It's not too often, that Alex calls. Once a month maybe. And in between, Piper doesn't think about her. Her worry and longing do not exist outside the minutes of their phone calls, as though Alex only bursts to life with the chiming of Piper's cell and fades away when they hang up.

So weeks pass when Piper does not wonder how often Alex is doing drugs, or if it really is heroin the way she suspects during the latest, quietest calls, Alex's voice a dreamy, lazy river claiming she only wanted to say hello.

Piper doesn't worry or wonder or reach out herself until the anniversary of Diane's death rolls around. She's expecting to hear from Alex that week, probably even that night, even though _expecting_ anything means she's thinking about her. But she can't help it. The date is a square of quicksand on the calendar, dragging Piper down. It has been a year, maybe fourteen, thirteen phone calls, and Alex still isn't okay.

* * *

"Hey, Al, it's me. I just...hadn't heard from you, so I thought I'd call. Been thinking about you this week. Call me back, okay? Soon?"

* * *

They saw an overdose once.

Some client's girlfriend, mistress, whatever. She was in the bathroom of a nightclub.

She was young. And she'd looked dead, even though Alex kept saying she wasn't, but no one ever told Piper for sure how she ended up. Piper can still picture it, blue lips and ash colored skin, burned to her memory even though Alex had pulled her out fast and gotten someone else to call 911.

Before Alex's mom died, before Alex's face at her funeral, that was the worst thing Piper had ever seen.

And suddenly she can't stop thinking about it.

* * *

 _8:39 am Alex I'm serious at least text me and tell me you're okay._

 _10:02 am hello?  
_

 _12:56 pm A FUCKING ONE WORD TEXT WILL SUFFICE  
_

 _5:34 pm I'm seriously freaking out Alex please_

* * *

"Alex?!"

Piper's voice splinters around the name. She's a little drunk, at a bar with Polly and Pete and their neighbor, Larry. Ever since they met when Polly and Pete were on vacation, Polly keeps arranging ways for Piper to hang out with him.

She usually wouldn't answer, not with Polly right here, not when she's on a sort-of accidental date, but she's been breaking all her other rules this week anyway, worrying and worrying and worrying.

"Hey, Pipes," Alex's voice scrapes through the phone, worn with exhaustion, and _oh_ , Piper's drunker than she thought because her eyes are wet and her hands are shaking and she's fucking furious.

"Where the _fuck_ have you been?"

"I...there's a lot going on. I, uh. I just landed in Massachusetts."

" _What_? Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Well..." Alex laughs, a wild, unstable sound. "A lot, actually. Kubra's sending me to rehab."

Piper closes her eyes, feels tears hit her cheeks. Damn it. "God, Alex, what did you do?"

"Fahri's dead," Alex says tightly. "Kubra killed him. Had him killed. Whatever. He's _dead_."

"What?" That's not what she was expecting

"It was so bad, Piper." Alex's voice is shaking. "And I thought..." She inhales, sharp. "Never mind."

Piper wipes her face with the underside of her wrist, her back to the main part of the bar so Polly and Larry won't see. "But you're okay?"

"I'm safe," Alex says softly, like that's a different thing. "Sorry I worried you, Pipes."

Something about the way she says Piper's name, warm and familiar and soft around the edges, makes Piper realize this is the first time she's heard Alex sober in a year.

"Are you going back? After rehab?"

"Yeah..." She lets out that laugh again. It makes her sound scared. "I kinda don't have a choice."

"What do you mean?"

"Listen. I have to go, there's a car...but they're going to take my phone, when I get there, so I wanted to call first. But...I think I'll be there for at least a few weeks."

She lets that dangle, the words tinged with hesitant hope. Piper sighs heavily. She doesn't know if she'll go, but in that moment, at least, she wants to.

Until the phone rang, until Alex's voice was back, Piper hadn't understood how much she really believed she might be dead. Or how much she needs her to be alive.

It's an awful way to realize she still loves her.

The phone is small but she's holding on with two hands when she asks, "What's the name of the place?"

* * *

 _A/N: Just kind of a whim and a rush job, I know, but I couldn't get it out of my head. I'm actually almost done writing it, so the second part should be up by this weekend at the latest, but it was getting long so I decide to split it up._

 _Also, the timeline for Piper meeting Larry probably doesn't fully fit with canon, but since we don't know for sure I moved it up._


	2. Chapter 2

Piper googles Alex's rehab center and it says therapists typically recommend no visitors for the first week; she waits two just to be safe.

She's nervous the whole drive; Piper's never been to a rehab center before, and she has a vague expectation of something between a hospital and a prison, as though she'll have to see Alex at a bedside or across a table.

But of course Alex, or she supposes Kubra, spared no expense, so she finds herself parking outside a building that looks like a massive, upscale ski resort, all dark wood and tall glass windows. The setting is less clinical than she thought, which should make this easier, but it still takes Piper awhile to get out of the car.

Her heart feels too low in her chest. She's afraid to see Alex.

It's been a year since the funeral, and sitting outside a rehab center makes it hard for Piper to keep pretending it's no big deal that Alex keeps calling when she's out of her mind high in another continent.

She spends nearly half an hour in the car, searching herself for enough strength to go inside, but when she gives Alex's name at the reception desk they tell her Alex is "in a session" and there's more waiting to do, another twenty minutes that Alex remains just a voice and a memory.

But then she's there, wearing jeans and a shirt Piper remembers. She looks pale and worn thin, and her hair is pulled back in a hurried ponytail. Piper's hardly ever seen her with her hair up.

"Hey." Alex smiles, but the wattage is dim. "Was starting to wonder if you'd show."

"I didn't know when you'd be allowed visitors. The web site said it's usually a case by case basis, on counselor recommendation. I know it's usually a week, but since that's not guaranteed I didn't want to make the drive too early and have to just go back." She's rambling, and wanting the whole time to reach up and tug Alex's hair loose.

"Got it," Alex says when Piper finally shuts up, and there's a light in her eyes that wasn't there a few seconds ago. "Do you wanna go somewhere?" She rolls her eyes, both embarrassed and derisive. "I'll give you the grand tour."

"Sure. It's nice here," Piper tells her, pointlessly. She falls into step beside Alex as they walk out of the lobby.

"Yeah. Drug cartel pays for damn good rehab. The fucking irony."

They go outside to a wraparound porch with clusters of rocking chairs, the view all rolling hills and trees bursting with warm colors, and before they can even sit down Piper blurts out, "Alex, what happened to Fahri? And what does it have to do with you being here?"

That's what she keeps coming back to, the failure in all her fervent attempts to stop thinking about this; Piper can't figure out the connection. Whatever it is scares her.

Alex face tightens, but she leans against the porch railing and slowly starts, "We were out, at some club. Fucking _floating_ on whatever pills it was that night. And Fahri had to go pick up one of the girls at the airport. I wanted him to stay. A little bit because I knew everyone else would flake early if he left, but mostly because he had the smack. And I knew I'd want it later. So I talked him into staying, and then the mule got arrested."

She swallows, her knuckles whitening on the porch rail. Piper wants to hold her hand but can't make herself move. "Fahri was freaking the fuck out, so we went to a different hotel to figure out what to do. And then this room service guy I guess brings Aydin a message and he just..." She laughs, frightened and a little bit unhinged. "Shot him. _Aydin_. And he was _with_ us at the fucking club, Piper. Tripping just as hard, and he kills Fahri like it was nothing."

"You saw?" Piper asks, hating that part of it. Fahri was Alex's friend more than any of the rest of them. But more than that, he was her superior, the one who recruited her - Piper had always thought of him as Kubra's right hand. Her stomach folds in on itself as it dawns on her that the most surprising thing is that Alex is the one who's alive.

Then Alex explains, "Kubra talked to me, after. He said it wasn't just that night, apparently Fahri had been screwing up other stuff, and something about...bugging him with business ideas. Whatever. But he knew it was the drugs, and he knew I've been into all that, too...so I guess this is my warning."

Piper doesn't know what to say. She can't pretend to be shocked by where they are or how Alex has ended up, not when she's been handed a year's worth of evidence she never let herself hold onto. She cuts her eyes to look at Alex's arms, bent at the elbow to hold onto the rail. There are faint track marks on her skin, like fucked up constellations that it only make Piper feel more lost.

"When you didn't call..." Her voice bends and she has to grit her teeth to continue. "I thought maybe you overdosed, like that girl in Berlin."

"God. I'd forgotten about her."

"I never have."

Alex looks away for a moment before meeting Piper's eyes again. Since they were together, Alex's mom has died, a friend was murdered in front of her, and she's ended up in rehab for drug addiction; all the sorts of things that should age a person, and yet there's something about Alex that seems startlingly young.

Piper looks at her long enough to realize it's _shame_.

"Is it working? Being here?"

"I don't know," Alex says dully. "Probably not as much as seeing Fahri's brain all over a hotel wall. _That's_ some fucking good drug prevention. They should do skits of it in high schools."

Piper's throat is hurting and she's afraid she might cry.

"Anyway," Alex laughs a little, self-conscious. "Enough about me. How are _you_?"

Not once in all their phone calls has Alex asked Piper about her life. Maybe the drugs just make her self-centered. Or maybe she just hasn't wanted to know.

"Okay," Piper says, even though the real answer right now is closer to _sad_ and _confused_ and _terrified_. "I have a job. Library clerk. I make thirteen dollars an hour and it didn't even require a college degree, but I kind of love it."

Alex smirks the slightest bit. "How does Bill feel about that?"

Warmth spills in Piper's chest because Alex still knows her well enough to ask that. "He still sending me links to law school applications but at this point is willing to compromise with grad school."

Alex raises an eyebrow, and she seems a little more like herself. "Proud of you for resisting. How's Cal?"

"Living with four roommates and he seems happy. Which hasn't stopped him from threatening to move to the woods and swearing off civilization."

"I'd hope not. And Danny?"

"Just got accepted to Doctors Without Borders."

"Polly?"

"Married. Just over a month ago."

"Wow."

They both look away from each other at the same moment, and Piper thinks of Alex rattling off these names of people she never met, who don't even know she exists. The only exception is Polly, who met Alex maybe three times but definitely doesn't know Piper's with her right now.

"Books!" Piper exclaims suddenly when the silence has gone on for too long. "I brought you books, but I left them in the car."

"Not from your library, I hope."

"No, no, I went to Barnes and Noble."

Alex makes a mock horrified expression. "A _chain_ store, Pipes?"

That makes Piper grin. "I only thought of it on the way here, had to pull off an exit for a mall." She doesn't say she'd actually seen the mall, and the bookstore sign, when she'd pulled off an exit debating turning back.

Alex's eyes go soft at the edges. "Thanks, Pipes." Her fingers creep across the railing, slip across Piper's knuckles and it feels like her skin might disintegrate. Alex nods past her. "Let's go get them."

"Are you allowed in the parking lot?"

"It's a voluntary treatment center, Piper, not a prison."

So they go to Piper's car and retrieve the two plastic bags full of paperbacks to take to Alex's room. There's a small sign with a number and a slot for Patient's Name beside the door, but inside it could easily be a small bed and breakfast, soft pastel colors and generic paintings on the wall.

It's also very clearly a bedroom, and it feels like they're a different kind of alone than before. Piper's pulse speeds up as soon Alex closes the door behind them.

Alex stacks the books on top of the dresser, taking the time to study each title before throwing Piper a knowing smile that makes her dizzy.

Her mouth goes dry and it feels like she hasn't kissed anyone in over a year, like no one since Alex counts. She steps closer the same moment Alex does, the air charging between them because that's the way it's always been.

"It's really good to see you," Alex says quietly.

"You, too," Piper breathes out, meaning it so much. Even now, with Alex looking so run down and defeated and changed, the _wanting her_ feels exactly the same.

She wants her and she loves her and she's so damn glad she's alive.

No one knows Piper is here. It feels hidden and secret, existing just outside the edges of her life.

But Alex runs her fingers through her hair and meets her eyes and it's enough to shake awake the coward in Piper. She pushes a smile through her shaking lips as she hears herself say, "So you mentioned a tour?"

Disappointment shutters Alex's expression, but she smoothes her face back to neutral and nods. "Sure. Right this way."

They walk all over the center. Alex rolls her eyes at the very existence of an arts and crafts room and yoga studio, while Piper's genuinely impressed by the workout suite and indoor pool.

Alex finally talks a little about the program there: group and individual therapy every day, twelve steps, withdrawal treatment. She hardly speaks with the enthusiasm of a true convert, but it's still hard for Piper to picture Alex as someone who needs to be here. An actual _addict._

Wandering the grounds outside, they pass a small group of patients who look between Piper and Alex with interest. One of them, a youngish guy in a faded Red Sox cap, raises his eyebrows at Alex. "Is this _her_?"

"Fuck off, Meyers," she mutters, putting her hand on the small of Piper's back to hurry her quickly past them. When they're out of earshot, she explains brusquely, "You have to talk in Group or it's a whole fucking thing, but I can't say stuff about work, obviously. Gotta find stuff to say about you. And Mom."

Piper's heart catches at that, the first mention of Diane. It's like Alex has to prepare herself to say the word _mom_ , and it still comes out small and weak.

It bothers her more than it should to think about Alex talking about that stuff to strangers. She wonders what she's said about her, about _them_. If Alex says she's part of the reason, and if any of that's true.

"I should go soon," Piper says, not looking at Alex's face when she does.

"Okay. Look, it's a thirty day program. I know it's not exactly down the street, but..." Alex stops, grimacing slightly like it costs a lot to ask, "Do you think you could come back?"

"Yes," Piper agrees without thinking, because her instinct is that this wasn't enough. She messed up somehow, didn't say enough, didn't ask the right questions.

She can come back in two weeks, when she'll be less overwhelmed by Alex's presence, and do better.

* * *

Alex sort of hates Piper being here, but she hates her leaving even more. So of course she nearly begs her to come back, and feels like crying in relief when she agrees.

The contradiction there is par for the course, lately. Like how Alex hates it here but wishes she could stay.

In the parking lot beside her car, Piper hugs her goodbye in a way that makes Alex aware of her own fragility, how she is thin skin pulled over bones blood and grief, and it feels like she might crumble when Piper lets her go.

She watches her drive off, clutching too empty arms around Piper's promise that she'll be back in two weeks.

That's important, and not just because Alex is embarrassingly needy all of a sudden. She hadn't said hardly anything she meant to, left the words tangled up somewhere at the base of her throat, which is a special kind of failure because all they do at this fucking place is _talk_.

Alex had arrived assuming it would be easy to lie her way through rehab, construct a narrative that doesn't include the cartel and her easy access to heroin. But of course she has plenty of truth to tell, too; her job's an enabler, not a cause.

It is, of course, her best reason to change, but she didn't need therapists to tell her that - Fahri's blood and Kubra's warehouse intimidation routine made that crystal clear. She fucking knows the consequences of her drug use, thank you very much, but she isn't allowed to talk about those.

So instead Alex is forced to talk, albeit with minimal detail, about her _real_ problems, the toxins they can't detox from her veins. There is nothing to be done about the fact that her mom is dead and Piper is (almost) gone and she's stuck in a life that isn't safe anymore.

Alex doesn't know where to put the thoughts are too fucked up to say out loud even if she could. Like how she knows her terror when Aydin's gun turned on her - and her relief when Kubra offered rehab instead of death - _must_ mean she wants to live but most days Alex doesn't feel it.

Or how she much she hates everyone here, real, seething hatred for every new patient who rages about a spouse or parent that doesn't understand, or the ones who cry about letting down their children, or the therapist who talks about a support system or the _people we've hurt_.

All Alex has is the sound and shape of Piper's worry from across an ocean, the three voicemails and nine unanswered texts that were waiting when she'd finally turned her phone back on.

She knows it isn't much but it is a small, heavy _something_.

* * *

Piper comes back to the center three days before Alex is scheduled for release. She's finished most of the books and tells Piper she can have them back, there won't be room in her luggage.

It's easier this time; the visit was planned, and Piper stays longer. There are parts on the day where Alex can almost forget the clock counting down on them, and it feels like they step back in time to when Alex knew exactly how to make Piper laugh, when it was so damn easy for them to talk to each other.

They can manage that even now, with so many landmine topics of conversation. They don't reminisce and they don't catch each other up, don't say anything that will hurt too much.

In the late afternoon they wander into the empty gymnasium and Alex picks up a basketball just to have something to do with her hands. Piper's smile is a slow, lovely thing and her eyes flare in the second before she bats the ball away, dribbling to the goal and obligating Alex to chase after her.

Piper's not bad - never played the sport but grew up with a brother who did - and Alex is terrible - as she discovered years ago in the form of crushing a high school coach who seemed convinced she'd be a prodigy based solely on height - but it's fun and they're laughing and it's hardly the goofiest thing they've ever done together.

"You feel better now, right?" Piper asks out of nowhere in the middle of the loosely structured game, her eyes skidding instantly off Alex's to focus on the basket. She shoots, swishes it, then chases after her rebound before adding, "I mean...you aren't gonna use again?"

Alex understands right away that this is why Piper came back, seeking this reassurance to carry home with her. Alex bites her lip and shuffles across the court toward her, hands up. "I'm clean. And I told you before, Pipes. I saw what happened to Fahri, I'm not an idiot."

"But you're around heroin all the time, Alex. And it's got one of the highest relapse rates."

Alex imagines her googling that and nearly smiles. "Don't worry, I'm a lousy junkie. Couldn't fully commit...I'd three time heroin with anything that's offered, basically. Not overly attached."

Piper's looking down at the ball as she bounces it; she'd instructed Alex _not_ to do that, so she must just not want Alex to see her face. It makes it easy for Alex to steal the ball. She holds onto it. "Listen. I need to say something."

Slowly, Piper straightens up and meets her eye. She is beautiful, Alex is always noticing that. And she seems older.

Alex has been waiting to say this, and her throat feels so tight with it. "I'm sorry."

Piper goes very still. "For what?"

"All of it." Then, wincing, "Brussels, mostly. The suitcase. But really everything...pulling you into all that."

Piper drags in a heavy breath. "Is this like an amends thing?"

"Not mandated. The apology's for stuff before the drugs. I...I'm saying you were right, Piper." She swallows and her eyes fill up because she hates admitting this, the words still rip into her, but she says them anyway: "You were right to leave."

Piper flinches and looks away, her face a wrestling match of too many emotions. Her eyes are bright. "Okay. Well. I'm sorry, too - "

"No," Alex cuts her off, shaking her head impatiently. "That's not...you shouldn't be sorry." She combs a hand through her hair, bites down on her tongue. "I didn't get it, Piper. I swear, I didn't. But now...there's stuff I didn't tell you about when Fahri died."

Now Piper just seems confused, like she can't follow the route of the conversation. She touches Alex's arm and it feels so good she forgets to breathe for a second.

"After Aydin shot him, he turned the gun on me. They took me to this fucking... _warehouse_ with Kubra's biggest guys just looming around. I swear he picked them just for size. It was like a bad spy movie. But I really, really thought he was going to kill me."

"Alex..." Piper's voice is small and thick and Alex loves her for seeming concerned.

"And it's not even just that. As soon as we heard the girl got arrested, Fahri was freaking out. Like the way someone about to be killed freaks out. And I kept telling him he was being dramatic, that Kubra wasn't going to fucking kill us in a hotel room. I said it like it was the stupidest thing ever...you remember, Pipes, he used to _come out_ with us. He and Fahri were friends. Aydin, too." She laughs, high and wild. "I'm such a fucking idiot."

"You're not - "

"I _am_ , Piper, I feel so stupid." It's all spilling out of her now, her voice frantic and crooked. "I worked with them for years, and I thought what? We were safe because we done a few tequila shots with the boss before? Laughed about a live sex show? Everyone's expendable, he doesn't fucking care..."

Her breathing is shallow, and Alex closes her eyes and tries to fix that, to find her way back to the important part. She feels Piper's fingers in her hair; she didn't know she was close enough to reach.

"The point is, Pipes..." Alex opens her eyes to look at her. "I never _really_ believed in the danger before. I know how stupid that sounds, and I fucking hate myself for ever getting you involved. I shouldn't have even brought you with me."

"You know I loved being with you, right?" Piper's voice is rough and she's holding back apparent tears.

"Yeah." Alex touches Piper's face. "I know. Me, too. But I'm still sorry."

Every plane in Piper's face goes soft; she looks like she needed to hear that, like some part of her has been waiting for it. "Thank you." It's barely an exhale, and then she wraps her arms around Alex, burying against her shoulder.

They hold onto each other for a long time, right there on the foul line, and then Piper murmurs into Alex's hair, "You can't go back there."

She pulls back to look at her. "Pipes - "

"I mean it, Alex. You get it now, you know it's bad for you..." Piper smiles, and the _hope_ shining in her face makes Alex's chest feel like it's splitting open. "Stay here. _Quit_ _,_ Al. We can figure something out."

The _we_ slices her fresh, and Alex hates Piper a little because she's making her want too much. "Piper," she says, barely above a whisper, the only way she can keep her voice from falling to pieces. "I _can't_. You think Kubra just takes resignation letters?"

Piper's face collapses as that sinks in.

"But..." Piper's voice is throbbing with distress, and Alex isn't sure what protest to expect, if it's heroin or Kubra or another threat of jail time, and then Piper finishes, "I don't want you to go."

"Me either," Alex murmurs, afraid she might start sobbing from the truth of it. "But I'm in, Pipes. I don't have a choice."

" _Fuck_ , Alex..." Piper's face is wet, her helplessness spinning quickly into anger.

"I know..." There's an ache right in the core of Alex's chest, and it's a feeling too big to explain. She has lost so much, almost everything, but the way Alex loves Piper feels like the only part of her still thriving.

So she takes a brave breath and asks one of the question she's been afraid to. "Are you dating anyone?"

Piper wipes her eyes on her sleeve and gives Alex a confused look. "I...barely, Alex, that doesn't matter -"

"It should, Pipes. Listen. I love my job. And I can still be fucking brilliant at it, so...I'll love it again. And I'll be fine."

Maybe that's all she'll be - a long, lonely life of _fine_ \- and maybe it will be something worse. But there's nothing Piper can do for her either way.

"You were right to leave," she says again. "But I can't. And, Pipes...you don't have to worry about me anymore. I just want you to be happy."

Alex wants to say more, tell Piper everything she finds miraculous about her, say that she's smart and strong and beautiful and should live any kind of life she wants, as long as it's _good_ and it's _hers_.

But her throat is closed up and her chest feels like a loaded gun, so she just takes Piper's face in shaking hands and kisses her. It tastes like salt and the worst goodbye.

Piper leaves not long after that. On purpose, Alex doesn't cry and she doesn't say _I love you_ , even though she wants, badly, to do both.

* * *

She puts all but two of the books she bought Alex in the backseat of her car, then climbs into the drivers side and pulls down the overhead mirror. She looks wrecked, eyes swollen and dull, like tears could wash away some of the color.

No one would look at her and imagine the moment of shameful relief that flared in her chest when Alex had offered a quick, easy out.

She had read it on Alex's face, in the pulsing undercurrent of all those words about how she'd be fine; what she was really trying to say was _let me go_. _You can m_ _ove on_.

And the thing is, Piper thought she already had.

Right up until breathless, wild hope went lightning through her, her heart tripping ahead to the idea of Alex staying, Alex _here_ , without the cartel and the danger so all that's left is the two of them again.

For just a moment, Piper had let herself want that so much she still feels weak from it.

But she was being stupid. Piper heard everything Alex was saying as proof that she couldn't possibly _want_ to return to the cartel, instead of reasons why she had to.

There's no way around it. Alex is caught in a life that's far away, and unsafe for too many reasons. She isn't something Piper can have anymore.

There is nothing either of them can do to change things. Worrying about her, missing her, wanting her...it's all fucking useless, so Piper would _love_ to be able to just turn it off.

And she thinks maybe Alex was giving her permission.

So she cries on and off - mostly on - for the first two hours of the drive, and by the time she's back in New York she's ready to try.

* * *

"Hello?"

"Hi."

"Hey...where are you?"

"Spain. I got back last week."

"Oh. And you're okay?"

"Yeah. I just wanted to say thanks. For visiting."

"I wanted to come, Al, you don't have to thank me."

"Maybe I just wanted to say hey."

"Well. Hey."

"Hey."

...

...

...

"Well. I'll let you go. Bye, Pipes."

"Bye, Alex."

* * *

Alex is careful and note perfect for the first month she's back, doesn't even take a drink. Whenever she sees Kubra he nods in approval, eventually starts giving her tasks that used to be Fahri's.

Piper sleeps with Larry and then keeps doing it, and when he calls her his girlfriend she doesn't mind.

* * *

"Hello?"

"Hey, you."

"Hi...where are you?"

"You know you always ask that?"

"Well, the answer's usually different."

"True. Cambodia."

"Jesus. What time is it there?"

"Umm. Same time as you, I think. Just p.m., not a.m."

"Oh, right. Weird."

...

"Is everything good with you?"

"Yeah, it's fine. You?"

"I'm good."

"Good."

...

"It's just been awhile, you know. Wanted to check in."

"Mmkay. I'm glad you did."

...

"And you're...you're _okay_?"

"Yeah. Promise. "

"Good."

* * *

Piper moves in with Larry. Polly and Pete make lesbian jokes, and she laughs like Alex was just some quirky story or phase, something to make her more interesting.

Alex stops feeling like she's living on thin ice with the cartel, and sometimes she gets drunk or takes pills in a club and feels good for a night, but she's never so far gone that she forgets Kubra's warning.

* * *

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me, I'm in Tahiti."

"Lucky. It's freezing here."

"I figured. Snow?"

"Fourteen inches."

"Damn. And here I hit the beach today."

"Oh, wow, fuck you."

"Kidding, it actually rained. Tomorrow's forecast is promising, though."

"Christmas on the beach?"

"Mmm-hmm. Jealous?"

"Kinda."

...

...

"Anyway. I just wanted to say Merry Christmas. _Almost_ Christmas."

"Well...Merry almost Christmas to you, too."

"Thanks."

"Everything good?"

"Mmm-hmmm. You?"

"Yeah. Good."

"Good."

...

...

...

"Okay. Night, Pipes."

"Night, Alex. Bye."

* * *

Piper and Polly's business starts to go well, well enough that Piper quits her library job. It's nice, doing something that feels like it can move forward, but she misses the quiet and the smell of books and the way it for some reason reminds her of Alex.

Someone offers Alex a bump once and she doesn't know how to say no to it, a tiny bag of white powder that means all she has to do is breathe in to feel good again.

* * *

"Hello?"

"Hey. Sorry I missed your call."

"It's okay, I figured you were busy...your birthday."

"Yeah...thanks for calling."

"Sure. Was it a good one?"

"Yeah. Nothing too exciting, but good."

"Good."

"How are you?"

"I'm good, too."

"Are you...you sound a little off."

"Just drinks, Piper."

"Is that allowed?"

"By who?"

"You know what I mean."

"It's fine, Pipes. I'm not into the whole across the board sobriety deal."

"But you're okay?"

"I'm good. I just wanted to say happy birthday."

"Okay. Thank you."

* * *

Alex finds a sweet spot between the drugs and her work. She does enough so she loves it again - the adrenaline of the business and way it keeps her mind sharp and working, the thrill of being great at it - but not so often that she's screwing up.

Piper and Larry drive through Northampton in the fall, and she takes him to the Smith campus and the restaurant where she worked, showing him around her past but leaving out all the important parts.

* * *

"Hello?"

...

...

...

"...hello? Alex?"

...

"Are you there?"

"Yeah. Sorry, Piper, I shouldn't have called, I'm gonna go - "

"Wait, wait, wait...what is it? What's going on?"

"Nothing. I just..."

"What?"

"I just wanted to hear your voice for a sec."

"Oh...are you okay?"

...

"Alex?"

"Yeah, I am. Bye, Pipes."

"Wait, Al - "

* * *

Alex quits heroin again every time her body starts craving more than she is. Withdrawal is miserable, every time, but it never lasts more than a few days and that's how she knows she still has it under control.

Piper and Larry go on a master cleanse. She cheats first, and lies about it, but she's used to that. She's been hiding phone calls and the person on the other end of them for years.

* * *

"Hey!"

"Wow, enthused greeting."

"Oh. It's just been awhile. How are you?"

"I'm good. And since you didn't ask your usual question: guess where I am?"

"How would I possibly guess?"

"Think of some unpleasant memories."

"Um..."

"Sorry, unpleasant _digestive_ memories."

"Oh, Jesus. You're in Java?"

"Uh-huh. And it's so weird, people _remember_ you. There's actually a statue squatting in the village - "

"Alex! Fuck _off_."

"See? Told you you'd laugh about it one day."

"Fine, you win. Only took six years."

* * *

Alex injects again for the first time in years, alone in a hotel room in New Zealand, after three weeks of no work, just _laying low_ , has made her brain too still and too quiet to keep its lights on.

Piper's parents are warming up to Larry, in spite of his semi-unemployment and their cohabitation, at least to the point where they start asking her about marriage. She loves him and she's happy but she's not ready for that yet.

* * *

"An inmate from Litchfield Federal Prison is attempting to contact you. To accept this call, please press one."

...

...

"Pipes?"

" _Fuck_ , Alex..."

"Yeah. I know...not a proud moment."

"What _happened_?"

"What...didn't see my mugshot on the evening news?"

"God, don't fucking do that."

"Hey, hey...sorry, Pipes, just trying to lighten the mood."

...

"You sound like you're about to cry."

She is. Standing on the apartment's narrow balcony, back to the sliding door, with Larry in the next room. Piper hadn't recognized the number, and the tears hit her in a fast, panicked wave.

"This isn't a joke, right?"

"No," Alex's voice is soft. "Not a joke."

"I'm sorry." She swallows hard. "Is the trial - "

"It's not like that, Pipes, I cut a deal."

"How much time?"

"A lot."

Piper closes her eyes. Warm tears coast over the curve of her cheeks and she can't bring herself to ask Alex to clarify.

"Are you okay?" She finally asks.

"Not really." Alex's voice is calm, but Piper can hear how precarious that is.

They hold on in the quiet for a moment. She can hear Alex breathing.

Then Alex clears her throat and says in a determinedly light voice, "One good thing though...you'll know exactly where I'm calling from for awhile now."

There's a knock on the glass door behind her, and Piper quickly swipes two fingers under her eyes as discreetly as she can manage before turning around. Larry gives her a questioning look, mouths, "Everything okay?"

She nods, holds up one finger, and on the other end of the line Alex misinterprets the silence, backtracking, "Not saying I'm going to start blowing up your phone or anything."

"No, no, I mean...you can call me." Belatedly, the details of the recorded message sink in. "Litchfield?"

"Yep. It'll be my most permanent address since the trailer park." Every joke Alex tries to make tightens the knot in Piper's chest. "So. Are you still in New York?"

It's strange to realize Alex wouldn't know that. They talk a few times a year, without sharing much of anything. "Yeah. Living in Brooklyn." Reluctantly, she adds, "Not alone, though."

"Boyfriend?" It's a fast response, not much to read in Alex's voice. Piper's unsure if she's clarifying gender or stage of relationship.

"Yeah."

"Okay."

Piper doesn't say anything. She feels sick and sorry, like she's the one who's done something wrong.

As though she can read her silence, Alex says softly, "You know you don't owe me anything, Pipes. I just wanted to tell you what's going on."

Piper can hear someone shouting in the background, and Alex mutters, " _Christ,_ " under her breath. She tries to picture Alex right now - orange prison jumpsuit, crowded around a phone on the wall. It doesn't seem real.

"So the whole cartel got busted?"

"Mostly," Alex says bitterly. "Few of the top people are all set up in countries without extradition. Kubra included. Of course."

Piper hesitates. "Do I need to be worried?"

"What? Oh. God, no. Kept your name out of it, I promise."

Piper leans her elbows on the balcony railing, drops her forehead onto her free palm. Her eyes are stinging again.

"Can I do anything for you?," she finally asks.

"Send some books maybe?" She hears a fetal smile leak into Alex's voice. "It helped in rehab."

"Yeah, of course. Alex..." Her voice breaks, because she's realizing Alex is closer than she's been in so long.

Alex teases her, about always asking _where_ the moment she picks up. And sure, maybe some of it's a habit, an easy first phone question, but every time she asks Piper feels some leftover strands of hope pull tight in her throat, like maybe the answer will be somewhere close by.

And now it is, but Piper didn't even have to ask.

"Pipes?"

"Would you want me to visit?"

"Yes." Alex answers so fast, and her voice sounds like a bruise. "Please."

So Alex tells her the visiting hours and protocol, and Piper nods along and tells herself this is fine, that it's still outside the lines drawn around her the rest of her life.

* * *

It's fucked up that every time she's seen Piper since they broke up it's when her life has gone to shit, always in some place where visitors feel obligated: funeral, rehab, now prison. It all feels depressingly familiar, approaching Piper with the burst of relief and anticipation that shame is trying like hell to smother.

Piper looks anxious and concerned but Alex is ready with a smirk and a greeting she'd planned "We get one hug at the beginning. After that you gotta keep your hands to yourself. I know it'll be difficult." The last sentence is lost against Piper's hair and Alex nearly sags against her, overwhelmed by being touched. Especially by her.

They pull away when they have to, and Piper looks at her, squinting a little. "I thought you'd be in orange."

"That's only for the newbies. So we know who to haze."

Piper's eyes widen. "Seriously?"

Alex actually smiles without planning it. "No."

They sit at opposite ends of the table, and Alex takes a moment to just look at her. Her hair is shorter. None of the clothes are old enough for Alex to remember. She's wearing earrings that don't really seem like her taste - gift from the boyfriend, maybe. She looks tired and pretty and grown up.

"It's good to see your face," Alex says finally, another smile nearly getting started .

"Your glasses are different," Piper says. Apparently she's been conducting her own observation. "And there's no blue in your hair."

"No..." Alex winds a strand about her finger and thinks about reaching across the table to touch Piper's. "Though I could always go back to that. There's actually a _salon_ in here...one of the inmates set it up in an old bathroom or something. Does hair for commissary money."

"That's actually impressive. I read an article about how prisoners actually create their own miniature consumerist societies. The consistency is sort of fascinating."

Alex bites back a grin. "And when did you read that article?"

"Last week," she admits with a small smile.

"Of course. Where does my eleven cents an hour fit in with that consumerist society?"

Piper tilts her head, curious. "What's your job?"

"Laundry."

She laughs, like Alex knew she would. "Was that a lot to get used to?" Nostalgia softens her eyes. "Remember the Four Seasons in The Seychelles? We'd just throw our laundry in the hallway, it was like forty bucks for a bag of pants."

"Yeah..." Alex trails off, the smile fading from her voice. The Four Seasons in The Seychelles feels so fucking far away. "I don't know what their placement process was, cause I swear to God every other person in that laundry room is an extremist Christian meth head."

Piper makes a face. "But is anyone else nice? You made any friends?"

She sounds like a parent talking to their kid on the first day of school, and it doesn't feel so funny all of a sudden. Almost snide, Alex says, "I'm keeping to myself, actually. Don't have a ton of interest in befriending the general populace of...shitty, smelly, farting, crazy _stupid_ fucking bitches. Most of whom hate me anyway. There's no point to...anything in here." To her horror, Alex's voice starts wobbling and her eyes get hot, so fast she doesn't have time to disguise it.

She hasn't had a real conversation with anyone, save her lawyer and the DA, since her arrest. She lifts her glasses and rubs at her eyes, angry with herself.

"Alex..."

"Sorry, shit. I don't want to whine at you the whole...you talk now. What's the deal with the boyfriend?" That part still comes out angry, and Piper's eyes move away.

Haltingly, with a lot of prompting, Piper tells her about _Larry_ and their Park Slope apartment and her business with Polly. It feels like an interrogation, Alex suddenly demanding details she hasn't wanted in all the years of phone calls. Piper's obviously uncomfortable, giving every answer like a confession, and Alex isn't sure if it's guilt or pity that's making Piper so reluctant, but she keeps asking because maybe she wants to be angry and bitter for awhile. It makes her feel less like she's about to burst into tears.

The CO cuts them off before Alex is ready for it, and the hug when Piper leaves is more awkward than the first one, stiff and desperate. Alex leaves the visitation room with claws tearing at her stomach and the thick worry that she messed something up she won't get to do over.

* * *

Piper spends two hours in an independent bookstore in her neighborhood, picking out books to send Alex. She finds a copy of a Jeanette Walls memoir she brought to rehab; that copy is still on her own shelf, and she buys it again just to see if Alex remembers.

She packs the box in the open trunk of her car while Larry's at an interview with some editor, then takes it straight to UPS and doesn't meet his eye when giving an address that includes an inmate number.

The next day Piper realizes she sent it without a letter or even a card and feels awful. She writes a letter that ends with a promise to visit soon, and it's only then that the pressure in her chest eases up.

The second time she goes, Alex is visibly relieved, apologizing right away for being too intense the first time. After that it's easier.

Piper ends up inventing a book club that meets every two weeks - Larry frowns and says that unusually frequent, and it makes Piper glad she didn't go with weekly - so she can drive up to Litchfield and see Alex.

She almost tells Polly a dozen times, just wanting to talk about it with someone, but if she explains this she'll have to tell Polly about the phone calls, and the visits to rehab, and Diane's funeral, go back through eight years of secrets that suddenly seem very big.

Maybe it's better no one knows; that way Alex remains entirely isolated. It's not as though she can go anywhere, invade any part of Piper's life away from the Litchfield visitation room.

Except for the fact that Alex is becoming so much of what Piper thinks about, even when she's back inside the lines.

* * *

"Alex. Someone's _watching_ us."

"What?" Alert, Alex twists around in her seat to look. "Oh, that's just Nicky." Catching her eye, Nicky flutters her fingers at them like an asshole. "She doesn't believe you exist."

Piper leans back in her seat and gives Alex a smug, delighted smile. "Does this mean you made a prison friend?"

Alex rolls her eyes. "Easy, Pipes." She pauses, then shrugs casually. "And I wouldn't exactly call her a _friend_."

Piper's smile flickers slightly, then drops completely as she glances back and forth between Nicky and Alex. "Oh, like...are you two...is this one of those prison wife things?"

Biting her tongue to keep back laughter, Alex narrows her eyes and raises an eyebrow. "So what if it is? Prison gets lonely."

Piper may be able to spend years lying by omission to her parents, but she has no poker face. That's always been true, and Alex can't help a surge of satisfaction as Piper's expression pinches in distaste, eyes darting back to check out Nicky out, obviously unhapy with what she sees.

Alex can't help it, she cracks up. Piper slowly turns the scowl on her instead of the visitation room window. "What're you...it's not true?"

"No." Alex smirks. "She's fucking this engaged chick who hasn't stopped planning her wedding the whole time she's inside."

"Oh." Alex can practically see Piper turning that over in her head, contemplating this confirmation of prison sex rumors. "So...are _you_ fucking anyone?"

She grins. "You jealous?"

" _What_? Please. Of course not."

"I don't know, you seem kinda jealous."

"I'm _glad_ you're making friends," Piper retorts in a haughty voice. "I think it's really good for you."

"Okay, Pipes, I've already got a counselor."

* * *

"How was the meeting?" Larry's on the couch with his socked feet propped up, _Breaking Bad_ playing on the TV. He knows she hates it and turns it off as soon as she closes the door behind her.

"It was good," Piper says in a dismissive tone that doesn't invite further questions. It was only a week or so into the lie that she'd realized it wasn't ideal, that a make believe book club also implies the existence of make believe members who she knows in some make believe way. So she tries not to make it seem worth talking about.

But Larry isn't some oblivious, disinterested guy, so he asks, "What's the book?"

Piper has almost certainly read hundreds of books in her lifetime, but suddenly every legitimate title flies out of her head. "Um. It's a memoir, actually." She smiles a little to herself. "About a Russian woman who owns a restaurant and has connections to the mob."

He frowns. "That's a _memoir_?"

Okay, she made it too memorable. Jesus, he'll probably google it. "Not really. Sorry, inside joke."

"Ah. You guys have really bonded, huh?"

She crosses to the kitchen, kissing him on the side of the head and muttering an affirmative, ignoring the now familiar guilt swooping through her gut that she thinks should probably be stronger.

* * *

"Hey." They hug like always, the happier, beginning hug; they hug four times a month, and sometimes it's strange to think that's all they touch. "Sorry I missed your call last week...I was hoping you'd call back, since I can't exactly return."

"Just like I can't leave a voicemail," Alex says with a flat smile, settling into her chair. She looks tired and unhappy. That happens sometimes.

"Exactly. I was with Larry, we were having dinner - "

"Does he know you come here?" Her voice cuts right through Piper's, sharp edged.

It's hard to hold her gaze but Piper does it. "No."

"Why?"

It's so hard to lie to Alex, but Piper wishes there was a way to make the truth less brutal. "Because he doesn't know about you."

"Right."

The worst part is that Alex doesn't seem surprised.

Tentatively, Piper asks her, "Did something happen?"

Alex exhales sharply, annoyed. "No, nothing fucking happened. Nothing has to _happen_ , Pipes, I'm in prison. That's shit enough."

"You just seem - "

"I can't always turn it into a funny story for you to take back to the fucking country club, okay? Oh, wait, no, because that would involve admitting my existence. Sucks for you."

It lands like a blow to the gut, one she probably deserves. Piper looks away, and waits awhile through sour silence before she says quietly, "Do you want me to go?"

"No." Alex's voice is thin. She hooks her fingers together, leaning forward and obscuring half her face with her hands. Finally, she says, "Sorry." She looks up at Piper. "I went to AA last week."

"Oh." Piper's not sure what to say, so she just asks, "Alcoholics?"

"It's kind of a multi-purpose meeting."

"What made you go?"

Alex shakes her head, already seeming to regret bringing this up. "I was wishing I had something and...I figure that's what people do, they go to meetings."

An old, insistent fear is starting to shove at the walls of Piper's throat. "Can you, um..." She lowers her voice. "Can you even _get_ heroin in here?"

Alex's lips crook into a faint smile. "Yeah. I don't know from who, or anything, but...I started to think about maybe finding out. So I went to a meeting."

"That's good," Piper forces out in a mechanical voice, just because it seems like the thing you're supposed to say. She knows it's not enough. Her heartbeat feels hard.

The quick burst of buzzer goes off and a Corrections Officer shouts dully, "Visiting hours have come to a close."

Panic breathes out of Piper's lungs even as Alex stands in compliance. It wasn't enough time, she can't take _that_ ending home with her for the next two weeks.

She thinks maybe Alex won't even hug her, but she's rounding to table and moving close, so Piper reaches for her and holds on tight, fingers clinging at her shirt. She aims her mouth at Alex's ear and rushes out, "Please don't do drugs. Or...even find drugs. Whatever. Don't. Please, Alex."

Alex's face is soft when they pull away, no traces of anger left. "Piper - "

"I hated it, okay? I could tell when you were high, Alex, and you were so far away, so you can't start - "

"Sssshhh," Alex hisses, eyeing a CO who's starting toward them. "Okay, Pipes. I know."

Alex grabs her hand and squeezes a promise just before a guard forces himself between them.

"Time to go, inmate."

* * *

"An inmate from Litchfield Federal Prison is attempting to contact you. To accept this call, please press one."

"Alex?"

"Hey, Pipes."

"Hey. Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Is this a good time?"

"Completely, yes. What's going on?"

"Nothing. Really. I'm just bored. That kinda happens a lot."

"It never seems boring when you talk about it."

"I'm a very charming storyteller."

"Then catch me up on some hot prison gossip. Nicky and Morelli?"

"Morell _o_. They're off again. Nicky's a fucking nightmare right now."

"Noted. What else?"

"Well. We're having an election. Vibes are very student council, except you can only vote within your own race."

"That sounds...antiquated."

"You're not wrong. But good 'ol _Tucky_ is running against Morello, so I've become a very zealous campaigner."

"You always have been political. When I first met you you were yelling in a bar about George W. Bush."

"You know who probably voted for Bush? Pennsatucky."

"The troll doll meth head. You think she _votes_?"

"Good point."

* * *

Piper's read that holidays in prison can be tough for inmates' emotional well-being, particularly the first one, so she goes to Litchfield early on Thanksgiving, leaving Larry on basting duty and claiming she and the book club are signed up for soup kitchen detail.

( _That_ lie does make her feel guilty, so guilty she actually does go volunteer one day the next week. It makes her think of Diane.)

But she's not sure what to do about Christmas. Probably won't be able to fake a volunteer outing on Christmas Day or Christmas Eve, which is disappointing because Alex used to love Christmas. Piper wants to at least send something besides just books for once, has been researching what's allowed but doesn't feel satisfied with any options yet.

She knows now that it can take awhile for the prison staff to sort through packages, so she needs to send it soon if she wants Alex to get it by Christmas. That's where Piper's mind has wandered to while she and Larry decorate their Christmas tree, the laptop perched beside the menorah on their mantle and playing modern covers of Christmas carols.

They've got the bottom two thirds of the tree pretty much decorated, and Piper's standing on the top rung of a stepladder while Larry rummages in a plastic packing containers full of ornaments Piper's parents gave her, handing them up to her one at a time, already on hooks. She's fallen into the easy, factory like rhythm of it, and is thinking about wrapping individual gifts inside her bigger shipping box to Litchfield before she remembers the guards will have to tear that open too, and she's got the ring box held between evergreen branches before Piper realizes what she's holding.

"What...?" She spins around to see Larry standing right below her, neck craned, like Romeo beneath the balcony. She looks from him to the box, open with a diamond ring glinting in the center of black velvet. A surge of sudden, loaded panic nearly topples her and Piper stammers. "Why would you want to do this?"

"What?" He raises his eyebrows, nothing but fond affection in his face in spite of her knee jerk response; he's not even nervous, obviously sure of the answer he can expect. She can't blame him; everyone's always asking what they're waiting for, Piper doesn't even really know herself -

"Why would I want to marry a WASP-y shiksa? Or why would I want to propose in front of a _Christmas_ tree knowing how much my parents are going to hate this engagement story?"

He's smiling and he's sweet and Piper loves him, but the word _engagement_ makes her feel like her guts are being pulled through her throat.

Her lungs ricochet air and she feels dizzy, all of a sudden, unstable there on the three feet high ladder. "I, I need to get down, I can't...I can't breathe...Larry..."

Alarmed, he takes her arms and helps her down, leads her to the couch. "Hey, hey...easy, Pipes, it's okay..." Her hands are shaking and he takes the ring from her before it ends up on the carpet. Kneeling between her legs in front of the sofa, Larry waits until she stops gasping and says nervously, "Don't think that's what people mean when they talk about taking someone's breath away."

She wants to laugh because that's why he said it, but he can only rasp, "Sorry."

"What's going on, Pipes?" His face is a mingling of confusion and fear, and God, she hates this. "You don't...wanna get married?"

"No, I do." She _does_. "I really do, Larry, I just..." Her voice falters. "I'm not sure you should want to marry me."

His face folds in confusion, and he lets out a little laugh like he's hoping she's playing a joke on him. "What're you talking about? I love you."

"But there's stuff you don't know," she tells him fervently. "Stuff you probably won't love."

He knits his brows together, scrutinizing her, seeming to slowly realize she's serious. "Okay...but maybe I should be the judge of that." Larry leans back on his heels, holding the ring box with two hands. "What kind of stuff?"

She takes a shaky breath. "I'm not really in a book club."

* * *

They call Alex for visitation and relief rivers through her like it always does. It's not Piper's regular day, but that happens sometimes, and it's close to Christmas so she's not surprised.

But something's wrong, and she knows it even before Piper hugs her, too fast, all shoulder blades and fisted hands.

She won't look Alex in the eye when they move to opposite ends of the table, and Piper sits down like she's trying to take up as little space as possible, curled in on herself. There's something strange in her eyes, but they won't stay still or even skim over Alex's long enough for her to identify what it is.

"What's going on, Pipes?" Alex asks, quiet and solemn so it's not just a greeting.

Piper lifts her chin and finally looks right at Alex. Her voice is hard and blunt and it ruins Alex in four seconds. "Larry asked me to marry him. And I really, really want to."

So that's why all the dark in her eyes: she's come to say this is finally finished. They have been right on the edge of _over_ for eight years, an ending in the slowest motion.

Alex bites her tongue so hard there's blood in her mouth when she mutters, "Congratulations."

And then Piper says, "I didn't say yes."

She sounds angry about it, so Alex sets her jaw and retorts, "But you _really really want to get married._ " She spits it out, almost mocking, because of _course_ Piper wants that. She wants everything she's expected to want. "So why not say yes?"

Piper leans forward on the table and drops her voice and then she ruins Alex again, "Because I love you, Alex." The retort rounds in Alex's throat and slides to the tip of her tongue like the most primitive reflex, but before she says it Piper adds, "I love you and I _fucking_ hate you."

Alex is holding her heart in cautious stillness, but she knows Piper enough to know which part of that declaration matters. "You don't hate me."

"I do." Piper's eyes are teary and fierce. "I _do_ , Alex...Larry's the one I was seeing back when you were in rehab. Did I tell you that? We'd just met, had been on like four dates that were barely even dates but _you_ told me it should matter. You looked me in the eye and you basically said to _move on_ , forget about you, and then you fucking made that _impossible_!"

If they were allowed to touch, Alex thinks Piper might actually slap her. She's crying a little, her chest heaving, her face a wild, tortured storm, and she takes a stuttered breath before demanding. "If you wanted me to not think about you, or worry, or whatever the fuck, why did you _keep fucking calling_?"

Calm and quiet, Alex simply says, "Because you answered."

It stalls Piper's momentum, and she brushes her sleeve angrily at the tears. "What are you talking about? You think it's _my_ fault?"

"No, I just mean...that's all I wanted. To know you would answer. That was my one good thing, Pipes...knowing you were out there and you still liked me enough to at least do that. I'm sorry if that's selfish, but sometimes..." Her breath hitches in her throat and turns her voice rough. "Sometimes I just really needed something good."

Piper's wrist drops lightly to the table, inches forward, like she wants to touch her. She doesn't look angry anymore, is just staring at Alex like she cannot fathom what to do about her.

Finally, she asks, "How long are you in here? Really?"

Alex exhales. "Seven years."

Piper's jaw tightens, her eyes glittering. "See? That's so fucking long, Alex, do you expect me to just _wait_ \- "

"I never asked you for that."

"No, you just asked me to keeping coming here - "

"I didn't ask you to do that, either."

Piper opens her mouth in instinctive protest, but no sound comes out. Her face opens slowly into a stunned realization, and Alex sits, calmly waiting for Piper to catch up.

* * *

Alex didn't ask. Not once.

The funeral, seven years ago, she had nearly begged Piper to come. Rehab, she'd strongly implied she wanted Piper to visit, and then asked her outright to come back one more time.

But she never asked Piper to come to Litchfield. She didn't have to.

All week, since Larry's disastrous proposal, Piper's blamed Alex for forcibly keeping herself in Piper's life, catching one foot in the door every time it nearly slammed shut.

Except Piper walked through this door all on her own, over and over and over. She's never even debated giving up the visits.

It has just been a given, that she'll go to where Alex is.

And it's more than that, because Alex is right, she _answered_. Almost always. Not just answered, she'd _waited_ for those phone calls, for the moment when Alex's name appeared on the screen and turned Piper's cell phone into a pulse point, holding her own heartbeat.

Without realizing it, Piper has been choosing Alex, again and again.

She rakes a hand through her hair and starts talking. "When Larry asked me...I told him about you. Everything back then, and that I've been visiting now." She'd had this flash of her parents, her fathers secrets piled high between them and her mother pretending not to see. "It's a lot of shit, Al, it's more than just stuff I never told him...I've been _actively_ lying to his face for months. And he said it was okay. That he still wanted to marry me, it didn't change anything. And I couldn't understand that."

Alex just looks at her, calm and patient.

"And Larry said...he asked why it would be a problem? Unless I'm still in love with you. He didn't mean it, he wasn't fishing, but I couldn't even look at him and then...then he _really_ asked me. And..." Her voice breaks clean in half. "I couldn't lie anymore."

They look at each other; a long, honest silence.

"I love you, too, you know," Alex says, quiet and serious with eyes full of light.

"I don't hate you," Piper answers.

They start laughing at the same time, and the sound of it is a breathless, lovely thing.

Alex's reaches for her hand, only holds on for a second. Piper wants her closer.

"What are you thinking, Pipes?" Alex asks her.

She's thinking that she loves the way Alex looks at her.

But what she says is, "I'm thinking...that I didn't get over you for eight years when we were just talking on the phone every couple months. So it's probably not going to happen in seven years when you're just an hour away."

This whole time Piper's thought of Alex as a piece she'd broken off, something entirely separate from her real life, carefully contained.

Except _real_ has always, always been Alex.

Alex who makes Piper feel more brave more beautiful more everything including _alive._ Alex with her broken courage and brittle pride and reckless wanting, Alex always pulling steady, overwhelming love out of Piper's fitful heart.

At some point, inevitably, the parts of Piper's life without her became the pieces that didn't feel whole.

Alex's eyes are bright and her voice catches when she says, "I'm not going to ask you to wait."

"I know." This time, Piper reaches for her, tangles their fingers together. "You'll be here. And so will I. So it's not even really waiting."

* * *

 _A/N: Really love to know what you think of this...longest chapter I've done in awhile ha._

 _(Quick notes of clarity: I assume the timing of Larry's canon proposal was at least somewhat motivated by Piper's impending prison time ("gotta lock this shit down before you go in"), hence pushing it back from the summer. And I think the show was always purposeful about not saying how much time Alex has...the woman she's low key based on, real Piper's ex-gf, got like five years. And in 1x04 Alex reacts to Nicky's five year sentence like it's a lot, but then says she has "a fuckload" so I figure it was more than that but not much more. Who knows)_


End file.
